A Fistful of Westerns! (Brad's Picks)

A couple days ago America celebrated another birthday with the release of the much maligned, and certainly under appreciated Bruckheimer/Verbinski Western extravaganza, The Lone Ranger.  It's been a long hard road to the silver screen, taking five years and over $250 million dollars, but the world has finally been assaulted by Johnny Depp's bird-hat wearing Tonto.  It is this year's John Carter, more attention has been given to its budget and the ballooning behind-the-scenes than the final product, but those that bothered to see it this holiday mostly seem to fall on the "Hated It" half.  I was pretty much ready to go in guns blazing, but I quickly found myself intoxicated by its oddity.  The Lone Ranger is weird, gross, violent, ugly, bloated, and perverted.  I thought it was amazing, and possibly my favorite Blockbuster of the Summer so far.  I am deeply perplexed by this reaction, and will certainly have to sit down for a second viewing to check my sanity, but as of right now The Lone Ranger is my favorite Bruckheimer production since the first Pirates of the Caribbean.

That being said, this ain't your granddaddy's Saturday Morning Serial.  Those looking forward to a cartoony reinvention of their beloved characters should look elsewhere.  This is not Sam Peckinpah's West.  It's not John Ford's Monument Valley.  This is not tribute filmmaking.  It's a straight up Gore Verbinski weirdo picture, and there might be hints of the familiar, but the closest it gets to homage is the bonkers Spaghetti Western tone.  Not Leone or Corbucci, but The Lone Ranger has moments that dip into the painfully unfunny absurdity of Mario Bava's Roy Colt & Winchester Jack.  I am happy to report that there are a handful of whacko critics out there defending the film, and if you're curious to see other chipper reviews, click on over to IndieWire to experience the minority opinion.

At the very least, The Lone Ranger has reawakened the Westerns conversation.  People bemoan its demise, but even if we're not getting a dozen new Westerns a year, the genre is far from dead and I can think of at least a handful of films that made my Top Ten lists during the 21st Century (Django Unchained, True Grit, Appaloosa, 3:10 To Yuma, and The Proposition).  I am a dork for many things. I love Star Trek.  I love Planet of the Apes.  I love Hellboy & Batman.  But my all time love has to be the Western with its frontiers and outlaws, it's open ranges and the men determined to fence them in.  Picking my Top Five Westerns is a nearly debilitating challenge.  I can tell you that my Top Three have been set in stone for at last ten years, but the back two switched in and out a half dozen times before I just settled with the final result.  It really does pain me not to include Johnny Guitar, but I finally let it slide due to a lack of viewings.  However, give me a few years and 5 more rewatches, and I'm betting Johnny Guitar will fall into the number 3 or even 2 slot.  As it stands today, these are my true loves.

5.  The Proposition:  A revisionist Western (gah, it seems like all Westerns are revisionist Westerns!) set in the Australian Outback, The Proposition begins when one brother (Guy Pearce) is captured by the British government, and charged with the assassination of his eldest brother (Danny Huston).  If he refuses, the youngest Burns Brother (Richard Wilson) will be executed for the crimes he perpetrated under their demonic tutelage.  The Proposition has to be one of the angriest and meanest movies I've ever experienced.  It is absolutely unrelenting in its pessimism and critique of westward expansion (or in this case, Global expansion).  Danny Huston might as well be Satan himself, a murderous rapist so uncompromisingly vile that the audience forgives Pearce's obvious scumbag mantle.  The Duke does not ride to the rescue of the damsel.  There is only misery here.  But it's a hell of a heart-thumper, a real deal horror film minus the spooks and goblins.

4.  The Professionals:  Here is your classic adventure film.  A Texas millionaire (Ralph Bellamy) hires four tough men to venture down into Mexico to retrieve his young bride from a villainous bandit king (Jack Palance).  As is the case with most Westerns, the rich = bad men and the poor = brave revolutionaries.  Our heroes are the Man's Mans of yesteryear, real tough dudes that just don't appear in Hollywood these days.  Lee Marvin is the military might, a born leader of men aching to fight the good fight.  Burt Lancaster is his scalawag buddy, he cares less about the cause and more about the reward.  Woody Strode is the halfbreed Apache scout, a mean hombre with a bow & arrow.  Robert Ryan is the horse wrangler, and the man who struggles the most with the morality of their mission.  Directed by Richard Brooks, The Professionals very much has that Dirty Dozen vibe, but its smaller cast allows for Lancaster & Marvin to charm their way into your heart as they dismiss gold for glory.  Honor over wealth, the stuff of Legend.

3.  Once Upon A Time In The West:  Clint Eastwood's Dollars Trilogy was simply Sergio Leone practicing for this film.  As epic as anything seen in The Lord of the Rings or Lawrence of Arabia, Once Upon A Time In The West is an attempt to cram in every genre convention from railroad expansion to mysterious strangers, from saloon brawls to sunset sayonaras.  This is kitchen sink cinema at its finest.  Henry Fonda is a profit killer - men, women, children, whatever - but he's too cocky to be unstoppable.  Charles Bronson is Harmonica, the drifter who stumbles into town with an obvious agenda for death.  Claudio Cardinale is the hooker with the heart of gold, a woman who falls into the gunsights of American Rail.  And Jason Robards is the bandit with delusions of domesticity.  Over the course of three hours these four characters butt heads and get their Spaghetti Western extreme closeups.  Ultra melodrama done right.  

2:  Pat Garrett & Billy The Kid:  It's impossible to watch this film and not also witness the breaking of Sam Peckinpah's heart.  This is the end for the director.  He would have a couple of films after this one (even one great one), but Pat Garrett & Billy The Kid is his last hurrah in the genre he reinvented.  Couple that with the already emotionally devastating plot, and you have one of the most sombre films ever produced.  Kris Kristofferson is The Kid, the last of a dying breed.  The railroad has connected America, the Wild West is forever gone.  James Coburn is Sheriff Garrett, a former outlaw who knows when the show's over and takes the Government's money in exchange for his best friends capture.  Both men are trapped by destiny, or at least their perceptions of it.  During the last moments of the film you can sense Peckinpah's unwillingness to adhere to history (his tiny undertaker cameo is the silent scream), and I sometimes fantasize for his Inglourious Basterds revision.  Alas, death is there.

1.  Unforgiven:  For me, and a lot of people, Clint Eastwood is the Western.  The Good The Bad and The Ugly, The Outlaw Josey Wales, High Plains Drifter.  How can you pick one above the other?  Well, personal nostalgia gets part of the credit for this film's placement at numero uno; Unforgiven was the first Western I ever saw in the theater.  At the time, I remember thinking the film was a little boring and my Dad was verbally abusive towards it upon exiting the theater.  However, when I rediscovered the picture in college, after having consumed everything by Sergio Leone and John Ford, I deeply responded to the climactic switcheroo.  For nearly all it's runtime, you are on Clint Eastwood's side.  He's an old widowed gunfighter who picks up a bounty to put supper on his children's table.  But the killings he commits along the way reawaken the bad man inside.  He's not the noble High Noon white hat of the 1950s.  He's William Munny, the killer of women and children.  He's damned.  And he knows it.

--Brad

A Fistful of Metal! (Brad's Picks)

Zack Snyder's Man of Steel has hit, and hopefully, it will leave a massive crater in my lackluster enthusiasm for Superman.  Oh sure, I enjoyed the Donner movies as a kid, and Grant Morrison & Frank Quitely's All-Star Superman has to be one of the greatest comic book series ever printed in four colors, but Big Blue has never been a character that's spoken to my fanboy heart.  It's either The Beatles or The Stones, you're either a Supes fan or a Batman guy.  I've always been the later.

However, that's not what this list is about.  Look to my Week in Dork for all things Not-A-Bird-Not-A-Plane.  This Fistful Friday centers around my favorite encounters with cinematic Heavy Metal.  Maybe not the greatest movies on the planet, but you can certainly bang your head to this list.  Rock on.

5.  Doc Savage - Man of Bronze:  This movie is shit.  No bones about it.  However, the pulp fiction source material birthed from the bored mind of Lester Dent is a treasure trove of Indiana Jones-like adventure.  The Man of Bronze and his team of scientists travel the globe battling evil Russian scientists and ravenous headhunter tribes.  He seems pretty much forgotten these days, but his tales of pseudo-science & flat-out mysticism rival the very best of The Shadow or The Phantom.  Too bad Ron Ely's Man of Bronze can't muster enough energy to break you out of a snooze.  Still, look at that poster, pretty badass huh?

4.  The Nickel Ride:  This is a gem of 70s crime cinema.  Jason Miller is Cooper, a low level kingpin who manages a string of warehouses in Los Angeles.  But then the mob looses interest in their investment and cowboy goon Bo Hopkins shows up on his doorstep.  Not really triumphed these days, The Nickel Ride is a cold, mean, anti-climactic, and eventually heartless film.  Not the type of flick to go down in history, but it's worth your time just to see everyone's favorite Exorcist go up against no one's favorite Bufurd Pusser.

3.  Silver Linings Playbook:  I haven't seen this since the movie theater, but I've been craving a rewatch lately.  Haters love to harp on its completely fantastical interpretation of mental illness and it's Gambling Wins The Day climax, but I say pull that stick outta your ass and enjoy the oddball romance skipping a beat at the center of the film.  Bradley Cooper & Jennifer Lawrence are utterly engaging.  They have no business being together and in a real world situation would probably end their relationship in bloodshed, but this is Hollywood, and in Hollywood the guy gets the girl even when he is batshit crazy with rage.  It's cute.

2.  Cross of Iron:  The man who brought us the moral ambiguity of The Wild Bunch and Pat Garrett & Billy The Kid turns his attention towards The Good War, and the result is a haunting insight into how the other half lives.  James Coburn is Steiner, a German corporal who refuses to execute a captive child which in turn brings down the wrath of his commanding officer Maximilian Schell.  There have been many films that have reveled in the "War Is Hell" pathos, but Cross of Iron is one of the most theatrical and as such it reaches deep into Greek tragedy.  This ain't Spielberg, it's Peckinpah.  'nuff said.

1.  Goldfinger:  Could there be any other choice for the top spot?  Certainly not the best James Bond film (uh, that's From Russia With Love), still Goldfinger has the most iconic moment from the franchise.  Shirley Eaton, having foolishly fallen for Sean Connery's smile, is transformed into the ultimate Bond Girl victim when the diabolical Auric Goldfinger gives her a glittery spray-on tan.  A million fanboys were birthed in that moment.

The Real Man of Steel?

--Brad

Brad's Week In Dork! (5/19/13-5/25/13)

This week was all about blowing the stink of Star Trek Into Darkness out of my life, and there was no better aid in that endeavor than the charmingly ridiculous stupid of The Fast and The Furious franchise.  I know what you're asking, "Brad, how can you enjoy a group of films that are obviously and infinitely more hairbrained than anything found in JJ Abrams' latest abomination?"  Ummmmmm, maybe.  It's certainly true that the first two Fast & Furious flicks are pretty damn terrible, and it's only till they start drifting in Tokyo that the films become any sort of real entertainment.  Of course, with Fast Five the producers begin to take notice of the crazy brains scheming of Marvel Studios, and Assemble an epic globe trotting adventure that exchanges the limp biscuit cgi malarky for grande "Damn, Did You See That!?!" practical car crack ups.  Toss in the The Rock (aka Samoan Thor) and your too dumb-too stupid franchise is Saved!

"Weee!  I Make Everything Better!"

However, before moving on to the street racing glory, I had to delve one more time Into Darkness.  This time dragging Mom, Dad, and The Wife to The Alamo.  Still hated it.  Sorry, folks.  I'm fascinated by how irritated my friends, family, & coworkers can be at my complete lack of enthusiasm for this latest Trek.  Part of that fascination can be contributed to my own bewilderment at their enjoyment.  Even if you're not a Trekkie you have to acknowledge the complete lack of substance or intelligence to the screenplay.  My disdain for this film is not just "Khan's Not White, okay, guys!"  It's a film riddled with conveniences, plot holes, and slipshod homage.  And it's dumb.  Not Fast & Furious dumb fun.  Just dumb.  Shiny, sure.  Easy to watch.  But it crumbles under the tiniest bit of scrutiny.  And I hold Star Trek to a higher standard than the latest 2 Hour Popcorn Killer.  If you don't - if you set Star Trek Into Darkness right next to Battleship or even The Avengers than I can see you shrugging off this latest adventure as a jolly good time.  But for me, the best Trek reaches for something higher than your wallet.

Star Trek Into Darkness:  Okay.  More Spoilers here.  I just can't talk about this movie without dishing out plot points.  What is Khan's plan?  He blows up Section 31 so that Admiral Marcus & his cronies will gather together.  He shoots up their boardroom.  Then he beams to Kronos.  Why?  Does he know that Marcus will send Kirk (or some other goon) to attack Kronos with his shipmate torpedos?  Why does he leave the torpedos active with his men inside?  Why are torpedos built with a hollow center for men to hide in?  What is Admiral Marcus's plan?  He defrosts the 300 year old Khan for his savagery?  How is he a better bomb builder than other Federation scientists?  Would Napoleon Bonaparte be a good addition to our current military?  Khan has super blood.  His blood can cure mysterious child illnesses.  His blood can resurrect dead Tribbles.  His blood can resurrect dead Starfleet Captains.  His blood can heal animal & human alike.  No more death for anybody!!!!   Um, couldn't the blood of the other 72 super humans aboard the USS Enterprise do the same thing?  Why does it have to be Khan's blood?  I hate this movie.  It's dumb.  And I'm starting to think Star Trek - Nemesis is better.

2 Fast 2 Furious:  When Vin Diesel and director Rob Cohen jumped ship for xXx, the producers of The Fast and The Furious pushed Paul Walker into the spotlight and brought on John Singleton for a little street cred.  The result is a bloated slog.  Tyrese Gibson is a fun enough Diesel replacement, but what little chemistry he can fake is lost in the drawn out undercover plot.  It's a manufactured Love You/Hate You bromance that doesn't come close to matching the wannabe Point Break relationship of the original film.  Eva Mendes is meant to be the love interest/sex object, but she seems totally bored by Walker's blue eyed gaze.  Seeing them flirt is as painful as it is neverending.  Obviously, the writers don't know yet that Walker & Brewster are meant to be - the family has yet to properly come together.  As is, 2 Fast 2 Furious is easily the weakest entry in the series.

Mission Impossible - Ghost Protocol:  The first half of this film is as good as this franchise gets.  The IMF is once again disavowed after their team is implicated in the Kremlin bombing.  Tom Cruise, Simon Pegg, Paula Patton, & Jeremy Renner come together to chase down another pesky terrorist, climbing the Burj Khalifa for super secret codes, chasing masked henchmen through dust storms, and hypnotizing Indian billionaires with magically plunging cleavage.  The plot holds very little interest,  this film might also house its most lackluster villain (sorry Michael Nyqvist, Dougray Scott was better - burn!).  But Brad Bird proves himself the king of cartoony action even when he's playing with live dolls, and Ghost Protocol is heaps of fun when Tom Cruise is busily smashing cars atop asshole badmen.

The Fast and The Furious - Tokyo Drift:  The Fast and The Furious - Tokyo Drift:  From the opening credits, you know something is different about this Dieseless & Walkerless Fast & Furious entry.  Justin Lin's camera is alive as it moves through the high school hell of Lucas Black.  The soundtrack is hipper, the teen landscape simmering with that hateful enthusiasm of youth.  One more town, one more school to alienate.  Lucas Black does just that after a construction yard race ends tragically.  His mom ships him off to Tokyo to live with his father; it's not like he can run afoul of the Yakuza there.  Oh wait.  The schools there are just as bad, but with the added bonus of a mob presence.  Thankfully, Black meets Bow Wow aka Twinkie, and the two form a fast friendship around cars and women.  Black proves himself as a street racing protege, catching the attention of bored low life Han (The Fast and The Furious's greatest creation) and together this trilogy of odd will take down Sonny Chiba's fedora don.  The Fast & Furious franchise was good and dead before Tokyo Drift.  Justin Lin came on board with a real vision and a love for real deal car races.  Sung Kang's Han brought genuine heart to the series.  Suddenly this was a brand to watch.

Peter Tork @ The Birchmere:  Tuesday Night was a real trip.  I know I've mentioned this on the blog before, but my Wife is a real Monkees maniac.  A few weeks back we caught Michael Nesmith at The Birchmere and as cool as that was, it really didn't capture the spastic joy brought on by Peter Tork's intimate performance.  We raced to the club after work, afraid to get stuck in the back with the cheap seats.  Sadly, not a whole lot of Northern Virginia showed up for Tork (about 50 folks) and The Wife & I scored some pretty damn good seats.  We were actually next to Tork's son the whole time and I found myself time traveling every time I stared at him working the projector.  That's right...projector.  As Tork performed Monkees classics his son added a little visual.  A very talky, chatty show.  Afterwards he welcomed autographs & pictures.  Lisa nearly lost her mind when Tork gave her a hug, and she even told him she'd leave me for him.  That's okay cuz he said I could have his fiance.  We're swinging now!

Pete Holmes @ 930 Club:  The next night The Wife & I were in DC for some stand-up.  I was fairly unfamiliar with Holmes (having only caught one or two eps of You Made It Weird) but from nearly the moment he took the stage I was dying with laughter.  He was a blue boy, and I don't think I'll be able to think of apartment hunting the same way again.  Since that night I've been a regular listener to the show, and I just downloaded his album Impregnated with Wonder.  A word of warning: Do Not Drive And Listen.  I nearly killed The Wife & I as I bellowed with laughter.  Dangerous Stuff.

They Live:  "Brother, life's a bitch...and she's back in heat!"  Another fabulous screening at The Alamo Drafthouse DC, complete with bubblegum and badass shades.  Obviously, this is one silly movie.  Rowdy Roddy Piper brings every ounce of his WWF Energy, and bashes it upon the silver screen with all the subtlety of a flaming mac truck.  John Carpenter blasts his rage upon America's Greed and he hits the nail right on the head, keeps on thwacking, and slams it through the crust of the Earth.  They Live is a goofy film filled with silly dialog and cheese filled melodrama, but I find as I get older, it's also a film that resonates perfectly with my own retail existence.  They Live gets me to laugh hard.  But if I start to dwell on it, and sense it's relevance as strong today as it was in the 1980s it can also make me a touch melancholic.  The Thing and Big Trouble in Little China will always be my top Carpenter flicks, but They Live has moved in right behind them.

Fast & Furious:  As far as quality goes, seated right behind 2 Fast 2 Furious is this fourth entry.  Not sure what went wrong.  Justin Lin proved himself to be the right man for the job, but he relies too heavily on the action of computer graphics this go 'round.   Despite bringing the gang back together and introducing the the family theme, Fast & Furious is rather forgettable.  Heck, as I sit at this computer, I'm struggling to remember the details of the plot.  Paul Walker worms his way back into the hearts of Jordana Brewster & her brother Diesel despite the fact that he's responsible for the death of Michelle Rodriguez...kinda...sorta...stay tuned to this franchise!  But the real problem of this film is all the night shooting.  What the hell is going on in these set pieces?  Hard to see, hard to care.  And the repetitive tunnel chase at the climax is a real snooze.  Forget this flick, let's move on.

Fast Five:  "East L.A. Avengers Assemble!!!!!"  Holy Cow!  This film is far too good to be the fifth film in a franchise.  Is there any other example of a series that takes five films to find itself?  Tokyo Drift was the first decent film, but Fast Five is the first honest-to-goodness action classic.  And it's not just the introduction of The Rock.  He goes a long way in grabbing my interest, but I think all the credit has to go to Justin Lin & his producers.  They keep the neon street race theme, but drops these criminal nimrods into a global bank heisting scheme worthy of Ocean's Eleven or James Bond.   The CG is kept to a minimum and Lin cranks the practical car crashes to mondo gonzo levels.   The climactic vault race is seriously stunning.  Sure, I think the producers were watching the buildup to The Avengers very closely and thought, "Yeah we can do that."  Suddenly there's a whole lotta wacky fan servicing occurring and a beauty of a stinger in the wings.  It all works though, with a silly but deeply sincere emphasis on family & faith.  It's easily to laugh at, but I can't help but get drawn in by the charm.

The Wild Bunch:  "I'm tired of being hunted."  After spending a week with these modern macho men pretenders, I needed a serious dose of real manhood to remind my perpetual youth that there is something else to strive towards.   Sam Peckinpah's Wild Bunch fit the bill.  It had been a few years since my last viewing, and I had forgotten just how excruciatingly violent the opening slaughterfest is, and how deplorable these guys are when you separate the reality from the fantasy of cinema.  Sam Peckinpah's West is a savage, hateful heartland - it's a brutal reminder of the corpses resting beneath this country's foundation.  So much orange blood.  And I love it.  William Holden is a scumbag gangster on a horse.  His friends are killers.  They're only heroic when standing next to the greed of the railroad beasts.  But when the frame of the film closes on a second bloody showdown, you see our heroes grab women as shields and do all they can to spend one last second killing another man.  It's a bleak world.  Not the happy black & white morality usually subjected upon John Wayne's fan base.  And I would give my last hit of tequila to have been an audience member during that original release.

Furious 6:  Fast Five brought America to the franchise, but Furious 6 is mostly for the already established fans.  The film does not simply jump from one action scene to the next (most of which have been spoiled in the trailers); there are whole segments that would mean nothing to anyone but the die hardest of die hard fans - seriously, why are we returning to L.A. to pigstick a baddie from two films back?  Um, cuz this is The Avengers of Shitty Car Racing Films!!!!  Yeah!!!!  Vin Diesel is soooooo damn serious.  I mean, he's always serious, but this time he's serrrrrrrrious.  Michele Rodriguez returns with a plot stolen from daytime television, and Vin bails on his smokin' hot Brazilian girlfriend for the downgrade.  Come on man, there's plenty of love in your heart for two ladies (& The Rock)!  Paul Walker & Jordana Brewster are pretty much sidelined this outing, but that's okay cuz there's more room for The Rock & Sung Kang to scowl and strut.  Furious 6 also might contain the single best stinger I've ever experienced in a theater (sorry Masters of the Universe), and I'm pumped for next year's sequel - Just Fast & Furious Enough!  Hmmmmm...this week of beefy beefy beefy men may have driven me mad.

My Dirty Dumb Eyes by Lisa Hanawalt:  Whoa.  This lady is one sick puppy.  And I love her.  A random collection of drawings & thoughts sprinkled with painfully humorous reviews of some of my favorite modern movies.  Ryan Gosling in Drive: "I think they could have gone a little further and given him a few more accouterments...246 Toothpicks!"  Or the peace pony film War Horse: "I'm also bummed that War Horse isn't more bad-ass and this isn't a horse version of 'Rise of the Planet of the Apes."  And let's not even talk about her thoughts regarding Red Angry Stay Puft Marshmallow Man.  If you are at all sheepish around sexuality than don't bother, but if you're ready to poke fun at yourself and others than Lisa Hanawalt is a fantastically smutty gateway into absurdity.

Isle of 100,000 Graves by Jason:  Matt's recent batch of reviews had me reaching for the bookshelf.  Not my favorite Jason book (that would be The Last Musketeer), but this twisted little pirate story is one messed up adventure.  A young girl convinces a gang of thieves to escort her to the Hangman Academy in search of her wayward father.  Meanwhile a young boy rejects his execution education in favor of a bloodless lifestyle.  Each humorous panel hides a bleak outlook, and you can't help but feel terrible as you chuckle along.  Jason is one of the great cartoonists working in the field today, and if you're unaware of his work then this would be a fine starting point.

--Brad

Brad's Week In Dork! (5/5/13-5/11/13)

We're two weeks into the Summer Season and I'm having a blast.  Granted, I'm still a little obsessed with The Alamo Drafthouse DC and their preshow entertainments go a long way into granting me a serious giddy schoolboy glee.  Just 12 hours after seeing Iron Man 3 at The Alamo, The Wife & I were back to chow down on fried pickles and guffaw at Don Cheadle's amazing Captain Planet monstrosity. Immediately upon returning to the household I leapt online to consume the rest of Cheadle's environmental horror shows.  Pure comic gold.

I also tracked down a blu ray copy of Martin Scorsese's New York, New York but just when I thought that movie marathon was back up and running, I fell into some deep boredom with that disastrous movie musical sendup.  I'd like to say I'm ready to dive into Raging Bull next week but with Star Trek Into Darkness on the horizon I've got some serious Trekkie preparation to complete.  On Wednesday, I had Matt over to the household for my first every Peckinpah Party...well, not so much a party when it's just Matt, the little lady, and myself.  But I don't think the joys of Peckinpah warrant a big damn event shindig.  The man is so wonderfully depressing and only a special few can find good times in his doom & gloom entertainment.

Iron Man 3:  I love the Summer Movie Season.  Especially when it's launched with such a bombastic mega movie like the latest from Marvel Studios.  Reading the nasty nitpicky reviews of the flick, I just shake my head.  The last minute arrival of the Iron Army, the voiceover rush job of a climax, blah, blah, blah.  Most of the film's problems are neatly swept under the carpet with a couple throwaway lines, and the film is more concerned with its set pieces than its motivations.  However, this is an exhilarating sequel to The Avengers and manages to add an extra layer of neurosis to Tony Stark.  The rotating cast of buddies to banter allows Shane Black to showoff his wit and the twist in the script might mock a long ago Marvel mainstay, but it's a character worthy of a good mocking.  Iron Man 3 might not be as simply revelatory as the original film (the revelation being "Holy cow that's Iron Man and he's got cool lasers and stuff & Robert Downey Jr is amazingly snarky!") but it evolves the story of Stark's super hero delusion forward while at the same time bringing it home with another "I Am Iron Man" finale.  Solid symmetry in a season most critics are rewarded with Battleship bitchfests.

Hulk:  Ang Lee's HULK is Sophocles meets Marvel. Not spandex cinema. The director reaches back to the Jekyll/Hyde story that inspired Stan Lee and digs even deeper into mythology. It mucks with the character, twisting the origin to fit the needs of the screenplay - Nick Nolte's hobo patriarch growls rage & hate, jealous of his big green son. Eric Bana is reduced mostly to a sulker, but the way his pants popping counterpart tears through the supporting cast is fantastically barbarous. The super hero antics are reduced to a couple of puppy fights, but the real theatrics are saved for the climactic Shakespearean stage war between father & son. And when words aren't enough, a big bite of electricity launches the mondo saga into a conceptual combat grasping for A Space Odyssey. HULK is violently ambitious, not entirely successful, and enthusiastically alienating. Not the film Marvel Studios would dare force upon the world these days, but a flick striving to do something different with the genre.  And the last time Ang Lee really hit my mojo.

All New X-Men #11:  The Secret of the All-New traitor is revealed and it's...not at all shocking thanks to it being casually spoiled in last week's Uncanny X-Men.  So, despite having last month's cliffhanger ruined in another book (by the hands of the same writer no less, thanks Bendis), this is still another solid issue in the time traveling melodrama.  I dig the traitor.  It feels right.  Each of these guys has a reason to be horrified by their future selves, but I think the character in question easily has the most pathetically sad transformation and given his already narcissistic upbringing I can easily see him walking over to bad guy Cyke's side.  The other half of the issue sees Mystique strike out against another Marvel top dog, and it looks like it brings the attention of the Uncanny Avengers; we've got more big guest stars to look forward to next month.

Thanos Rising #2:  I really enjoyed the first book.  Kiddie Thanos learning the joys of anger & killing.  This issue continues his descent into pure evil, but I'm not sure I like the whole serial killer in training bent.  Also, I'm starting to wonder if we even needed this book.  Do we need to know why Thanos is such a bad guy or how he learned the pleasures of murder?  I want the story to march on to Universal Domination and leave the teen angst behind.  Give me Alexander The Great with a side of Space Hitler.

Winter Soldier #18:  Man, it sucks that this is the second to last issue in the series.  It never really had a chance, beginning with Ed Brubaker coasting out of the Marvel Universe but finally finding its feet under the tenure of Jason Latour.  This latest entry is a brooding downer with Bucky learning the origin of Tesla Tarasova, an opportunity Latour uses to express his Warren Zevon love ("That Son of a Bitch, Van Owen!!!") and gain another foothold in my appreciation.  The Winter Soldier has always been the bummer book of marvel - Super Heroics mixed with shame and dread.  Bucky Barnes is probably the saddest character in their bullpen and I kinda get why people aren't buying the book.  But dammit, they should.  Too late though.

Abe Sapien - Dark and Terrible #2:  The second issue still sees Abe on the run from the BPRD, but we're also given a little flashback to explain his flight.  I'm excited to see the fishman on an adventure of self discovery and now that Hellboy's trapped in Hell, it's good to have another dissatisfied agent lurking along the fringes of the Mignolaverse.  Having worked years alongside Mike Mignola, Scott Allie obviously has a deep understanding of these characters but the real star of this book is artist Sebastian Fiumara.  The man knows horror.  He's EC personified and I never want him to leave.

New York, New York:  The film lost me 15 minutes into the runtime. As Scorsese orchestrates a fantastic crane shot across a V-J Day celebration, and Robert De Niro practically sexually assaults his way into Liza Minelli's heart, a poisonous idea scratched into my brain - New York, New York is Martin Scorsese's 1941. A thought that's good for a chuckle, and not even that accurate. After all, Steven Spielberg's 1941 is a righteous disaster filled with a colorful array of confused cinematic icons stumbling about a spectacularly unfunny screenplay. 1941 is so damn odd, it's interesting. A train wreck worthy of your best gawk. Martin Scorsese's New York, New York like 1941 is trying to ape a time and a genre, but failing miserably to excite. This film doesn't have the parade. It's a somber saga. Robert De Niro's sexfiend manages to score some tender moments with Minnelli cuz her character is too dang shy to fend off his attack. The next thing we know they're in a relationship, falling bassackwards into a big band career and a marriage doomed from that first moment of Hate At First Sight. The rest of this too damn long story is filled with typical Hollywood Couple jealously. When Minnelli hits the big time & De Niro slips, neither their marriage nor their child can soothe the ambition. Maybe if this film was actually a musical than I could handle the banal romance, but what little Glenn Miller cool slips into the film is not enough to keep your mind from wandering or the zzzzzs from setting in. A real dull bore.

Star Trek - Countdown To Darkness:  The two prequel comics produced by IDW leading into 2009's Star Trek were not great, but they had a couple of interesting insights.  This latest Countdown, on the other hand, adds absolutely nothing to the JJ Abrams experience and completely screws an opportunity to play with Enterprise history.  At 4 issues, there is very little story to consume.  First Captain of the Enterprise, Robert April has been leading a civil war on an alien planet for decades.  With the aid of Mudd's daughter, April has lost his way in a skirmish with the Klingons but when the young Captain Kirk smashes the Prime Directive (as all Kirks are destined to do) he gets the devious idea to reclaim the chair.  I'm not sure how this relates to Into Darkness, but hopefully very little with only the obvious retrofitted Klingons & references to First Officer Marcus leaking forth from Abrams' mystery box.

Jason and the Argonauts:  Perfectly capturing the joy and excitement of Greek mythology, Jason & The Argonauts understands the Clash of the Titans better than any film baring that name. My go-to Harryhausen flick, it offers several stopmotion set piece classics like the bronze giant Telos, the Hydra attack, and the screaming skeleton assault. But as cool as all those effects sequences truly are, Jason & The Argonauts also supplies some fine human performances. Todd Armstrong squares his jaw as best he can, takes command with a puffed chest, and eats the melodrama with the appropriate theatricality. Nigel Green's Hercules is the absolute coolest, and seriously badass depiction of everyone's favorite demigod. He's all beard, smiles, and bravado. It's a shame when the tussle with Telos sends Green on his way, as his Hercules is worth a handful of spin-off films. I may prefer The 7th Voyage of Sinbad & Mysterious Island, but Jason & The Argonauts is the film Ray Harryhausen will be remembered for - pluck this out of cinema's history and the genre landscape would be utterly unrecognizable.

Pat Garrett and Billy The Kid:  "Remember me to whoever rides by." Sam Peckinpah's ultimate expression on the passing of the American West (a sub genre all utno itself), Pat Garrett & Billy The Kid is a passionately somber saga in which James Coburn's bought sheriff damns his soul in the pursuit of Kris Krisstofferson's outlaw spirit. Billy the Kid might be a cattle rustling murderer, but through Peckinpah's twisted morality he represents independence and the pursuit of happiness. Peckinpah's Garrett is a man who sold his freedom for the white picket fence, and the house to box his converted Mexican bride. The film is preachy with nearly every frame coated in Bob Dylan's lyrics, and Peckinpah's hatred for institution poisons the well for those looking for the simplicity of High Noon. It's a film busting at the seams with Western icons - Jack Elam, Slim Pickins, LQ Jones, Harry Dean Stanton, RG Armstrong - most of which violently fall in the conflict between legends . Pat Garrett & Billy The Kid tackles the fiction of American mythology; it's angry, mean, but mostly sad - not the rollicking adventure we often seek from the genre, but a heartfelt sendoff from its most iconoclastic creator.

Bring Me The Head of Alfredo Garcia:  "There's nothing sacred about a hole in the ground or the man that's in it." After expressing his gloomy displeasure with the disappearance of The American West, Sam Peckinpah's follow-up film documented an all-out descent into hell that mirrored his own self-destruction. Warren Oates is Bennie, an ex patriot bartender who attempts to rise above his station by collecting a million dollar bounty on the severed head of a gangland lothario. A real hero's quest...if you replace Gilgamesh with a bottom feeding drunk and the will of the gods with blind luck and a sure shot. Tagging along for his damnation is his prostitute girlfriend, Isela Vega.  Their relationship seems to start the film as one of mutual convenience but through horrific circumstances they fool themselves into love but down south such fantasies will not last. The final third of the film is not just melancholic like Pat Garrett, but downright depressing. Warren Oates is said to be mimicking the look and mannerisms of his director, and considering Peckinpah's eventual collapse into self pity, Bring Me The Head of Alfredo Garcia is one of cinema's hardest watches. That being said, it's also a brilliant bit of dread; a mean, hateful, ugly, angry film. A real sick puppy that wallows in its filth. Peckinpah would make other movies, but this is his final statement.

Batman #20:  Well, this was a real disappointment.  And coming off of my lukewarm reaction to Death of the Family, Snyder has a lot to prove with his next Zero Year arc.  Last year at the Baltimore Comic Con, Greg Capullo was giving away mini prints of Clayface with every autograph.  It's a beautifully grotesque image that currently hangs above my television in the living room, & when I heard this muddy rogue was going to make an appearance in this two issue arc I was pretty dang excited.  Now that it's all said and done, Capullo never delivered on the horror of that tiny print.  This goofy tale of Bruce Wayne imitation hits the basic beats already explored years ago in The Animated Series, and awkwardly ignores the crushing damage hammered down on Commissioner Gordon last issue.  3 issues past the last big arc, and Batman has slipped behind both Detective Comics & Batman Inc as the third best Bat-Title.  Lame.

Avengers #11:  "I am here because the universe demanded it."  Don't let the crappy manga cover fool you.  None of those goofy costumes appear in this issue, and it is easily my favorite book from Jonathan Hickman's run so far.  The team heads to Hong Kong in an effort to infiltrate an A.I.M. bidding war.  Shang Chi is the standout of the book, striking gorgeous Bruce Lee poses as he brings his Kung Fu against a series of ninja strike attacks.  But this issue also offers some great chuckles with Cannonball & Sunspot discovering the joys of gambling with tuxedoed A.I.M. agents, and the Black Widow popping headshots on a batch of terrorist assholes.  Hickman has taken this series all over the universe - from Mars to the Savage Land to the far reaches of Gladiatorial space.  With each trip he gives us a new texture, and this 70s Spy Puncher is the best genre vacation yet.

Thor - God of Thunder #8:  Young Thor slaves away for The God Butcher while meeting his future children, The Godesses of Thunder.  Meanwhile, Avenger Thor & Old Man Thor sail the cosmic seas and drink all the ale.  Jason Aaron's high concept romp is barreling towards its conclusion and I have no idea how these three timelines are going to collapse into each other and resolve themselves.  And dammit, that's exciting.  I have a feeling that Arron's run on Thor, how ever long it eventually lasts, will go down as one of the great arcs.  Mark my words.

Homicide - Life on the Street Season 6:  "In this world Dead is Dead."  Probably the toughest and most emotionally complex season of the show so far.  If you thought Detective Kellerman gunning down Luther Mahoney was the end of the gang war than you were seriously misguided.  Luthor's sister lands on the scene, and Georgia Ray is ten times the villain her big bro ever was; the back half of the series is populated with a sea of gangland killings.  With each dope death, Kellerman brings the department closer and closer to an apocalyptic outcome, threatening the lives of everyone touched by the Luthor Killing.  If I had one complaint about Season 6 is that super cop Frank Pembleton is given the back seat and I completely understand why Andre Braugher was ready to leave the show.  New additions Ballard, Garrity, & Falzone are welcome but neither of them can hold Pembleton's shoes.  The show just aint the show without Frank.  Still, other highlights of 6 include Charles Durning's racist cold case cop, James Earl Jones' devious Twinkie king, and Vincent D'Onofrio's subway flattened worker bee.

The Great Gatsby:  When Baz Luhrmann's at his most Baz Luhrmanny I was thoroughly enjoying this movie. You see that first trailer and you want the anachronisms, you want the artifice - bring on the Jay-Z, bring on the Jack White. Sweeping CGI landscapes populated with gyrating stripper flappers. But The Great Gatsby is far too faithful of an adaptation to be interesting; an hour and a half into the film you're pretty much sick of dopey Tobey and you want to throttle Leo and his "Old Sports." Baz Luhrmann is too in love with the novel, and his theatricality is suffocated by the Summer Reading selection. I would have much rather seen Baz revel in the period than find the modern in Fitzgerald.

--Brad